A/N: Don't own don't sue
Lyrics at the beginning are from 'If I Knew' by Bruno Mars
Lyrics in the middle are from 'Something Just Like This' by Coldplay (originally, however I had the Madilyn Bailey version in mind)
If I Knew
Chapter Eleven
I was a city boy
Right into danger's where I'd always run, a boy who had his fun
But I wouldn't've done
All the things that I have done
If I knew one day you'd come
Something was going on. Eira prodded unenthusiastically at her food with a golden fork, eyeing her step mother suspiciously across the table. Lady Atla had been fluttering around court for the past week looking like all of her dreams had come true. If she hadn't known her so well, she'd assume she had suddenly fallen in love.
It was actually much worse.
"Eira, darling."
She abandoned her food, eyeing her step mother warily as she beckoned her. Lady Atla took her arm and whisked her out of the banquet hall and onto the huge balcony. The balcony was wide enough for several people to walk abreast but, given the punishing heat of the midday sun, it was sparsely populated while the rest of the Court took refuge in the cool banquet hall for lunch.
"I thought you would like to know how things are proceeding." Lady Atla was never one for small talk when there were more important things to discuss.
"My Lady?"
Lady Atla gave her an indulgent smile, tugging on her arm to pull her closer.
"Don't play coy, daughter." She giggled. "Your marriage."
Eira was so surprised she stopped in her tracks, jerking painfully on her step mother's arm. Lady Atla gave her a chastising frown, touching her shoulder reproachfully. She gave an impatient tug on Eira's arm, still linked through hers, and they fell into step again.
"I was not aware-"
"Come now!" Lady Atla laughed. "It's past time you were married. You have been at Court long enough to make connections of your own, a name for yourself. You're a beautiful girl, from a good family. You have the favour of the Queen which gives you influence."
Eira's face got stonier with every word. This was exactly what she had hoped to avoid, what she had left home to escape. She could feel the tethers tightening around her again.
"Now is the perfect time."
Eira bit back her anger, taking a few seconds to compose her expression before she ripped Lady Atla's head off. It would do no good to alienate her now and decapitating one's step mother after lunch was most certainly frowned upon.
"I'm grateful for your concerns regarding my future, Lady Step-Mother." She said coolly. "Unfortunately, I do not wish to wed."
"Oh don't be silly." Lady Atla chortled, flapping away her protests with an airy hand.
"I assure you, My Lady, I am entirely serious." Eira said icily, clamping down on her irritation.
Lady Atla rolled her eyes, tossing her hair back playfully.
"You are a funny one." She smiled affectionately. "Your father has entered into negotiations. Testing the waters, so to speak."
Eira struggled to keep a grip on her patience. Her step-mother was somewhat flighty, but she was well-meaning.
"Dangling the hook to see who bites?"
Lady Atla giggled, pinching her arm lightly. Eira rolled her eyes. The marriage between Lady Atla and her father had been arranged between her father and Atla's father a year after the death of Eira's mother. It would never occur to Lady Atla that a pretty young woman from a good family might not want a good husband who could give her and their children a secure future. She never had understood her step daughter.
"Do I learn who this gentleman is? Or will it be a pleasant surprise awaiting me at the altar?" She asked sweetly.
"Well, I don't suppose it will do any harm." Lady Atla said coyly, the sarcasm going entirely over her head as she glanced around the balcony surreptitiously. "Lord Moncliere."
Eira raised her eyebrows but otherwise managed not to react. Lord Moncliere was a recently widowed Lord of good repute. His lands provided the materials that were used to build all boats at Asgard, including the Royal barges and the Royal Fleet. He was still relatively young, by Asgard standards, his wife of scant years dying in a boating accident over a year ago. He was a good choice, even she could admit that. Her step-mother was still whittering, extolling his virtues in a steady stream that Eira chose to block out rather than respond to for her own sanity.
As they circled the balcony, a group of Lords emerged from the banquet hall and it came as no surprise to Eira that her father and Lord Moncliere were amongst them. She dipped politely into a curtsy, kissing her father on the cheek as he bounded over to them happily. Eira eyed her possible future husband from beneath her lashes. He was a little taller than her, built more along the lines of Prince Thor than his brother, with a shock of brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His dark eyes sparkled and his plump lower lip was curled in an amused grin.
"Lady Eira." He greeted her politely, taking her outstretched hand and brushing his lips across the back of it.
"Lord Moncliere." She smiled ruefully.
He offered her his arm and she took it politely, her father and step-mother falling into step behind them as they began a circuit of the balcony. They made small talk for the first few minutes, exchanging pleasantries and asking after mutual friends. The usual Court nonsense.
"I take it Lady Atla has broached the subject with you."
She laughed in surprise.
"Lady Atla is not known for her ability to keep secrets."
Lord Moncliere chuckled, glancing over his shoulder at Lady Atla practically dragging her husband along behind them to keep up with them.
"This is somewhat awkward for you."
She smiled in surprise, somewhat taken aback. She had spoken to Lord Moncliere at Court, flirted even, but they had never had a serious conversation. In fact she had no real sense of him beyond the common known facts of his life.
"I assure you, My Lady, I did not plan to arrange this without your knowledge."
She eyed him out of the corner of her eye curiously. He seemed almost sheepish. Curious. Most Lords at the Court cherry-picked their brides based on what profit or prestige joining their families could bring. It would most certainly not occur to them to discuss their plans with their actual brides beforehand.
"I appreciate that, My Lord." She smiled shyly at him and he grinned.
"Are you… amenable to the idea?"
She looked at him thoughtfully. He was still young and handsome, well thought of at Court and certainly rich enough to give her a lifestyle to rival any of the Ladies here. From the flush creeping over his cheeks, he also seemed to have a certain affection for her that meant the match was not entirely one of practicality. That was useful. It was always better to have a man more enamoured of you than you were with them. It made them easier to manipulate, should the need arise. She realised that he was waiting for her answer, a frown starting to tug at his lips.
"I am… not entirely opposed to the idea, My Lord." She finally said. "It is surely something to prepare for. In the future." She said deliberately, hoping he was intelligent enough to understand.
His countenance lightened and he hurriedly looked away from her to hide a smile. She glanced over her shoulder at her step mother, trying her hardest to listen in.
"Of course, Lady Eira. I should not like to rush you into anything you were not comfortable with."
She smiled prettily at him and he grinned shyly back.
This was not something that could be undone quickly, she would need to step carefully for now. If she refused Lord Moncliere, that would not solve her problem. There would be another suitor in line and the next one may not be so easily handled.
"I hear negotiations for your marriage are afoot."
Eira glanced up at Frigga, the pages of the book in her lap rifling lazily in the breeze. They were ensconced on Frigga's private balcony against the late afternoon sun, taking advantage of how high up her chambers were to catch the breath of a breeze.
"I believe so, Your Grace."
Frigga's golden eyebrows arched enquiringly and Eira cocked her head. It had been over a week since her conversation with Lady Atla and Lord Moncliere on the balcony. The gentleman had joined them for almost every meal since then, had partnered her at least once for every dance and had taken her for many walks around the palace and grounds. He was surprisingly pleasant to talk to and his company was enjoyable. A different kind of company to the Prince, certainly, but not entirely disagreeable.
"You have no opinion on the matter?" Frigga ventured idly, sipping a crystal goblet of water flavoured with exotic fruits. "I find that very unlikely, songbird."
Eira's lips twitched.
"I have an opinion on several aspects of this event." She mused, staring at the book in her hands without seeing the words on the pages.
"I'm curious to hear them all." Frigga laughed, closing her eyes and tilting back her head as a breeze ruffled her hair and cooled her brow.
"The first would be Lord Moncliere himself." Eira decided to go for the easiest option first. "A very fine man who is proving to be pleasant company and most unhurried in our courtship."
"Something you appreciate." The Queen observed without opening her eyes.
"Indeed. I believe as a husband, I would be hard-pressed to find a more suitable match." Eira chewed on her lip thoughtfully. "Especially given my… foibles." She admitted.
She knew very well that her independent character, some might go so far as to call it an attitude, caused many at Court to find her overbearing and bold. She had little patience for anything that did not directly concern her or her future and she used her feminine wiles to achieve her aims. There were probably many men at Court who desired her, but few who would want to try and control her when they could have a silly pretty ornament of a wife instead.
"The match itself is… satisfactory." She continued thoughtfully. "He has plenty of land and a thriving business. His estate is not too far from Court, I believe."
Frigga smiled, peeking out from under her lashes at her.
"Sounds ideal." She observed, waving away a tiny hovering bird idly.
"Yes… it would be." Eira averted her gaze.
"If you wanted to marry." Frigga said bluntly, bringing the conversation to its logical conclusion.
Eira didn't reply. She was selfish. She knew that. Lord Moncliere was a perfectly reasonable choice for a husband, in fact she was relatively lucky. But she didn't want to marry, she never had. At least not until she could no longer get her own way here.
"Are you ready to leave Court?"
Eira stared at the Queen. The real question hovered in the air between them, unspoken yet still tangible. She was not ready to leave Court, that was true, but she was most definitely not ready to leave behind her Prince. Her conversations with Lord Moncliere were sweet nonsense, nothing that tested her intellect or captured her attention. When he turned his merry brown eyes on her, she did not feel every inch of her body tingling like lightening. When she danced with him, she did not feel that little forbidden thrill with every twirling pass that brought their bodies within a breath of touching. He did not infuriate her to the point where she simply had to kiss him, or slap him. She did not feel like she had successfully tamed a wild animal, who was perfectly capable of ripping her throat out, for the few brief hours they had together.
"My dear." Frigga leaned forwards and took Eira's hand in hers. "This is not a decision to be taken lightly." Eira blinked at her in surprise, glancing down at her hand cradled in Frigga's. "You must think very carefully before you acquiesce."
She gave her a motherly smile, her golden hair glimmering in the sun. Her eyes were sparkling intelligently and Eira could almost see the shadow of her son's clever mind behind them.
"What is the matter with you?" Loki snapped, scowling at the figure hunched before him.
She had been somewhat miserable for her last few visits and it was starting to irritate him. She did visit him purely to keep him entertained, did she not? She averted her gaze, her pretty mouth drawn into a frown.
"I have a lot on my mind, Prince."
Loki bit back an irritable remark and glowered at her. He should be the only thing on her mind. He slid a smile onto his face, taking her hand in his and drawing her to feet. She eyed him suspiciously, not buying the disingenuous smile on his face for a moment. The more handsome he looked, the more dangerous he could be.
"What is it, nightingale?"
She glared at him, trying to remove her hand from his grip. He tightened his fingers on hers, his smile getting wider.
"Do not pretend you care, Prince."
"Pretending is what I do." He murmured, drawing her closer to him.
She stopped struggling against him, pouting up at him mutinously.
"Do not mock me." She said sulkily, knowing full well that she was playing right into his hands.
"Tell me what troubles you, love."
She was sure that anyone else saying those words would have seemed tender and romantic. Not so her Prince.
"You don't care." She responded childishly, her eyes accusing on his face.
"Of course not." He snickered. "However I'm certain that you will continue in this frame of mind until you unburden yourself." Loki gestured grandly with the free hand that wasn't clutching onto hers. "Therefore the sooner it is off your chest, the better." He purred, glancing at the aforementioned body part.
She shoved him in the chest with a squeak of outrage, merely succeeding in rumpling his shirt. He arched an eyebrow at her imperiously and, for a split second, she wanted nothing more than to shock him.
"I'm soon to be wed."
Not by the flicker of an eyelash did Loki reveal the sudden violent flare of jealousy that exploded in his chest. His grip tightened on her hand until she winced.
"You're hurting me, Prince."
With great effort, he managed to reign in his temper and douse the inexplicable fire raging against his lungs. She was glaring up at him, her eyes narrowed to slits of icy green and her delectable mouth plumped into a pout. He ensured his mask was still in place, before she could glimpse any of the emotions flitting in rapid succession through his mind.
"Congratulations." He said silkily, lifting her captured hand to his lips.
Her cheeks darkened slightly as he brushed his lips against the back of her palm teasingly. He had confused her, he could see the cogs turning behind those clever eyes of hers.
"That's it?" She blurted out, the flush on her cheeks now matching her pretty rose-pink gown.
"It hardly affects myself." Loki shrugged one shoulder in careless elegance, turning her hand over and nipping at her palm gently with his teeth.
"I thought you found entertainment in our bargain, Prince." She said icily, trying valiantly to ignore the tantalising feel of his breath against the delicate skin of her palm.
"Assuredly, I do." Loki admitted magnanimously, using the tip of his tongue to trace the pulse-point beating in her wrist.
She scowled at him in confusion, ignoring the goosebumps that had sprung to life all over her naked arm.
"I don't expect this development to disrupt our arrangement." He scoffed, deftly manoeuvring himself a little closer to her using his grip on her wrist.
"You don't think my husband might notice my frequent absences?"
Her hand was still caught in his and he glanced at her from beneath his lashes, his lips a breath away from her skin. His midnight eyes were shining wickedly and she felt her belly turn over.
"I have faith that you could find a way to ensure he does not, My Lady." He murmured slyly, his fingertips tickling her sensitive palm.
She pursed her lips and managed not to roll her eyes.
"And what manner of wife would I be? Sneaking away from my honest husband's marital bed to dally with a prisoner by night?"
Loki ignored the barb of 'prisoner', sliding his arm around her slender waist and drawing her ever closer.
"Who is this lucky husband?"
She tilted her head back to look at him suspiciously, but she saw no way to refuse to name him without arousing his interest further. She shuddered at the thought of what might happen, being caged down here did not make him any less dangerous.
"Lord Moncliere."
Loki cocked his head, conjuring an image of the man in his mind. He was a trifling Lord, far beneath his notice. Not one of his brother's inner circle so clearly not a warrior of any repute. He was handsome enough, he admitted sulkily, rich and well thought of. He had never bothered making his acquaintance. The man was far beneath him after all. From his reputation, however, this was a good match for her. That would not do at all.
"Sing me my song, nightingale." He whispered against her ear, her silken jasmine-scented hair coiling against his cheek.
He released her suddenly and she swayed a little, almost as if she had been in a trance. After a moment she resumed her seat on the chair, waiting until he had seated himself on his bed and gestured grandly for her to begin.
"I've been reading books of old, the legends and the myths
Achilles and his gold, Hercules and his gifts
Spiderman's control, and Batman with his fists
And clearly I don't see myself upon that list
But she said, where'd you wanna go?
How much you wanna risk?
I'm not looking for somebody with some superhuman gifts
Some superhero, some fairytale bliss
Just something I can turn to
Somebody I can kiss
Oh I want something just like this
Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo
I want something just like this
I've been reading books of old, the legends and the myths
The testaments they told, the moon and its eclipse
And Superman unrolls, a suit before he lifts
But I'm not the kind of person that it fits
She said, where'd you wanna go?
How much you wanna risk?
I'm not looking for somebody with some superhuman gifts
Some superhero, some fairytale bliss
Just something I can turn to
Somebody I can miss
Oh, I want something just like this."
Loki frowned. He knew she carefully selected her song choices for very specific reasons. He was trying to work out if she had chosen this one to deliberately mock him. He tilted his head as he pondered, indicating for her to ask her question. She sighed, looking almost disappointed.
"Would you ever have married?" She asked absently, looking as if she really couldn't care less what his answer was. That rankled.
"I imagine so." He shrugged. "Odin would have ordered it eventually. He preferred to dangle the idea in front of the fools he wished to coax into falling under Asgard's rule."
She avoided his eye, hearing the strange mix of disgust and longing in his voice. It occurred to her that, given the option, the fools the idea was dangled in front of would choose Prince Thor over her Prince. Fools, indeed. Prince Thor was a pleasant, if dull, piece on the board. If anything he would be a useful trophy to parade around and his abilities in leading a land at war were admittedly impressive. Yes, her Prince was the one who could bring a world to its knees. With only a few words, she was certain he would manage it somehow.
His face was dark, as if he were following her line of thinking, and she shivered.
